


Strays

by White Aster (white_aster)



Series: Field Maneuvers (FF7/FMA crossover) [7]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greed spreads a little Yuletide cheer, whether it's wanted or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strays

Greed kicked the door closed, whistling some carol that'd been playing in the shopping district. He set the shopping bags down on the poker table, mind already contemplating the best way to get to a certain high-ranking officer's apartment as he strode into the barracks and realized that he wasn't alone. He stopped in front of the rookies' bunks. "What the hell are you two still doing here?"

Kimberly and Elric gave him identical looks. "We live here," Kimberly pointed out.

"Leave started this morning. Don't you two have somewhere more fun to be? Family? Friends?" Belatedly, he remembered that Kimberly was an orphan and Elric's parents were dead or MIA. "Some accomodating whore house?"

"Not really," Kimberly said, turning a page in his book.

Elric just shrugged, staring at the bottom of Kimberly's bunk.

Greed frowned, some of his holiday cheer evaporating. This? Two of HIS men, looking at spending the holiday in the BARRACKS for fuck's sake? This was not acceptable.

His savior arrived, pink-cheeked and hauling a duffel over her shoulder. "It is colder than Shiva's frosty tits out there. Sheeeit." Martel stomped the snow off her boots, throwing her coat over the hooks by the door. "Looks like we'll have a white Yule, at least. The kids'll love it."

"Didn't you leave? Gods, can I not get RID of you people?" Greed waved his arms for emphasis.

Martel shrugged, grabbing some coffee from the pot. "Did. Dropped Dorochet by his ma's place, then Law and I got caught up in the snow. He made his train, I missed mine. Another one leaves in an hour. I'll catch that one." She frowned at the rookies. "What are you two still doing here?"

Kimberly rolled his eyes. "Fuck's sake, have you two never seen people who actually REST over the holidays?"

Greed and Martel shared a look, then said together: "No."

Kimberly rolled his eyes again. Elric didn't really respond at all, and that worried Greed more than anything. Kimberly was acting like a man used to holidays on his own. Elric was acting like the kind of man who'd seen one too MANY holidays alone, and this one might be the breaking point. It made him wonder.

Greed looked over at Martel. Martel grinned and put on her heard-at-fifty-paces-trainer-bark. "Pack up, mutts. Overnighters, and if you're not ready in half an hour I'm dragging you both out in your sock feet."

Kimberly had the sense to look alarmed, and even Elric woke up at that. "Huh?"

"I'm not letting you idiots sit around here on Yule Eve. Especially not when my sister's going to have about four tons of food ready. We always have three times what we need, so that should be just enough to feed you two bottomless pits."

Elric, finally roused, said, "You...want us to....?"

"Uh huh," Martel grinned.

"But...I wouldn't want to be a bother, Martel."

Martel rolled her eyes. "I've got four brothers, two sisters, and roughly four hundred nieces and nephews. My MOM's got two sisters and two brothers, and I've lost track of how many cousins there are. You'll be lucky if anyone even notices you're not part of the family."

Greed watched Kimberly's expression go from surprised to annoyed. It looked a little too abrupt to be strictly real, in Greed's opinion. He grumped, "Who said we wanted to go anyway?"

Martel set down her coffee cup. "Captain, permission to draft the rookies for general Yule duty?"

Greed waved a hand magnanimously, "Granted, Corporal."

Kimberly's book thumped to the mattress. "Now wait one damn minute--"

Martel marched over and balled a fist in Kimberly's shirt, pulling her face close to his. "You WILL come to Yule Eve and Yule dinners, Lieutenant, and you WILL eat my family's food, and you WILL listen to all the embarrassing stories my family'll no doubt tell about me, and you WILL get climbed on by little munchkins, and you WILL LIKE IT or I will break your spine, now is that CLEAR?"

Kimberly didn't have to think too long about that. Martel had her "I can kick your ass six ways from Sunday" look on. "...yes, sir."

"Good!" Martel let him go and straightened up with a grin. "Pack up. We leave in twenty minutes."

"But...." Elric was already turning to let his feet dangle over the side of the bed, though.

Martel turned, one hand on her hip. "Elric?"

"Yeah?"

She smiled. "Shut up and come have dinner."

"...Yes'm."

Martel paused by the door. Greed clapped her on the back. "Good call, Corporal. I salute your sacrifice."

Martel snorted. "Like they'll be any trouble."

Behind them, the sound of clothes rustling and several mutters including "nosy" and "goddamned" and "mother-hens" floated over to them. "If he's a pain, you've got permission to beat the shit out of Kimberly." Greed looked over at the rookies, both ass-up in their footlockers. Kimberly sniffed some indistinguishable article of clothing from inside, wrinkled his nose, and tossed it over his shoulder in favor of something else. "I don't think he will be, though."

Martel smiled. "Me neither." She leaned against the wall. "You sure you don't want to come, Captain?"

Greed waved a hand. "Nah, nah, I got PLANS for this week."

"Oooh, do tell."

"Classified information."

"Oh REALLY?" Martel elbowed him. "Anyone I know?"

Greed inspected his fingernails. "Maaaaybe...."

"Terra from the secretarial pool?"

"Nope."

"...Jann from the 108th?"

"Getting warmer."

"...hmmm...." She ducked her head to look back through the doorway at the bags on the poker table. "Let's see, high end liquor store and something absolutely delicious-smelling from that little specialty place, so someone worth spending on...and you haven't left yet, so must be someone in town...."

"Mmmmhmmm."

Martel cocked her head at him. "...HIM?"

Greed grinned. "A little birdie told me he's in town for the week and actually taking a few days off. Just got back from Corel."

"Nice timing. He know you're coming?"

"Hell, no."

Martel laughed, earning her a scowl from Kimberly, seemingly just on principle. "Well, that's the Pack for you." She gestured to the rookies. "Spreading holiday joy and cheer--"

Greed grinned back. "--whether it's wanted or not. Exactly."

Ten minutes later Greed shrugged back into his coat, told the rookies to behave, told Martel to have fun, and waved goodbye as he headed back out. Thirty minutes after THAT he was getting off the train in Sector 1, trudging through three inches of snow and avoiding harried last-minute shoppers. He found the building he was looking for without much trouble. It was a big building, after all, specifically for some of the Shinra high muckety mucks. The place had security just to get INTO it, and he could FEEL the eyes on the back of his neck, mechanical and otherwise, as he found the elevator and punched for the 37th floor. _Damn, bet he hates this place,_ Greed thought as he watched the numbers count up. _I know I would. Place's got all the personality of an egg crate. An expensive egg crate, but still...._

The elevator dinged, and Greed alarmed several well-dressed executive-types that were waiting as he stepped out of the car. He waved jauntily and whistled a snatch of a carol again as he sauntered down the hall, just to confuse them more. Y'know...on principle.

The apartments in this place were not numbered (more security, Greed guessed). However, the same little birdie (and a pretty little birdie she'd been) that'd told him about a certain someone having the holidays off also happened to know directions to a certain someone's apartment. (Though there was likely a perfectly innocent explanation, Greed had resolved to ask that certain someone about that interesting fact as soon as possible, just to see the look on his face.) Greed turned right, then right, then left down identical-looking cream-colored hallways, punctuated by identical endtables with identical vases of identical fake flowers. The place was starting to seriously give Greed the creeps by the time he found the door he wanted and knocked.

It took a long moment before the door opened, as if the occupant was not used to or expecting visitors and perhaps had to get over the novelty a bit before actually ascertaining who was outside and whether they should be let in (there wasn't a peephole that Greed could see, and he imagined there was some kind of video feed involved). Or, perhaps, as if the occupant had fallen asleep and had to rouse himself first.

With a mechanical click, the door finally opened, revealing what looked suspiciously like a freshly-showered Silver General, complete with wet hair, smell of soap, and worn sweats that wouldn't have been out of place in Greed's own footlocker.

He looked fucking gorgeous, dark circles under his eyes and all.

Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow. "Who let YOU into the building?"

Greed shrugged. "Psh. You should know more than anyone where a SOLDIER 2nd class uniform and ID'll get you. Besides," he spread his arms wide, "don't I look harmless?"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes.

Greed held up the bags as an offering. "I know you just got back, and I know I didn't call ahead, but I brought food and booze and if you want you can kick me out afterwards. Believe me, I won't be high-maintenance. Promise."

"Hrm." Sephiroth considered, but after a few seconds his nose all but twitched in the direction of the bags. "...what kind of food?"

"Homemade pasta, salad, few sandwiches with enough meat and cheese to choke a chocobo, few pieces of cheesecake.... The garlic's the homemade lasagna. Or maybe the nice garlic mayo they put on the sandwiches...." Greed brought one of the bags to his nose, inhaling lustily before wiggled the bags temptingly at his superior officer again. "Mmmmm. You eaten yet?"

Sephiroth blinked. "You mean today?" He looked like he had to think about it.

Greed sighed. "You need a friggin' keeper, I swear." He made a shooing gesture with the bags. "Move, move, let me and the food in."

The door opened wider to admit him, with a long-suffering sigh, as if Greed could ever REALLY make Sephiroth do something he didn't want to do. "Pushy bastard."

Greed grinned as he passed, trailing the scents of garlic and roast beef. "Always."

 

\--------------------

There were two kinds of spartan apartments, Greed had noticed: the kind that was empty and happy about it and the kind that was just sad. He was relieved to see that Sephiroth's apartment was more the former than the latter. It looked, above all, like a place that no one really lived in. Which, given that Sephiroth could probably count on his fingers and toes the full days he'd spent in Midgar in the past six months, wasn't surprising. There were all the usual apartment things: a couch against the wall, end tables on either end, facing an entertainment center and tv. Greed could see the marks on the carpet where the cleaning crew had vacuumed and nothing had disturbed them. There was a window that took up nearly the whole far wall and probably had a stunning view of Midgar, though all Greed could see right then was a swirling curtain of snow. A low arch led off to the left into a dining area and kitchen that looked sleek and modern and gleamed faintly. A short hall headed off in the other direction, probably to bathroom and bedroom. A truly obscene amount of space for Midgar was the only thing that marked the place as high-end. Where most other places in the building would have expensive curios and paintings, here there was white space. It was elegantly arranged, with a sort of minimalist grace that was impressive, given the size of the rooms. The only hints of personality were in the books on the end table, the coat on the coat rack by the door, and Masamune resting in a place of honor on the wall above the couch, as if it, too, were home and resting.

Greed took all this in with a soldier's practiced eye as he took the food into the kitchen and proceeded to find things on which to serve it.

The cupboards were almost bare, and apparently the sum of Sephiroth's food-serving apparatus involved one set of plates (white), one set of bowls (white), one set of utilitarian silverware, a set of four glasses (plain glass, sturdy), and a suspiciously large collection of goofy and suggestive coffee mugs. Greed blinked at that last, but then remembered that Zack fellow that he'd met once, and all was made clear.

Luckily, the kitchen, for all its lack of dishes, was full of intimidatingly shiny state-of-the-art appliances, including a microwave that might have been capable of taking over the world given the correct command sequence. Greed was just happy that he could figure out how to make it heat up the lasagna.

As he was putting the sandwiches on a plate, Sephiroth appeared to lean against the doorway, his hair pulled back into a tail. He _did_ look tired, and Greed almost wished that he hadn't promised not to talk about work, so he could ask how things had gone and let the man vent if he wanted. At the moment, though, he didn't look so much angry as half-exhausted, so Greed left it alone and filled the quiet of the kitchen by whistling badly. The microwave beeped, and Greed poked at the lasagna once more before setting it next to the other containers on the island counter.

"It smells very good," the general said, eyeing the sandwiches.

The two of them contemplated the multiple dishes of food, then the distance to the dining room table. Greed presented Sephiroth with his silverware with a flourish. "We're bachelors. Tables are optional. Have at."

That got him a smile that was more in the eyes than anywhere else, but Greed figured that it counted.

\--------------------

There was a lot of food, by normal standards, but two mako-enhanced appetites made short work of it. The lasagna was perfect, with just enough crunch on the top and wonderfully bubbly cheese. The sandwiches had about half a cow each and were messy with garlic mayo. The salad was real lettuce and several shredded vegetables that Greed didn't really know the name of but was more than happy to eat. For dessert, the cheesecake was vanilla raspberry, creamy and tart with berry glaze, and they both chased after every crumb and drop. They didn't talk much, except about the food. When they were finished, Greed pulled out the brandy. He wiggled it invitingly and got an impressed eyebrow at the label.

Greed pulled down two of the chunky water glasses and poured them each two fingers of the rich amber liquid, leaving the bottle next to the other two snuggled on the counter under the cupboards. (Greed had seen one of the brands at the store, picked it up, and then carefully put it back down when he'd seen the price.) Once the dishwasher was loaded, he handed Sephiroth his glass, and they drank. The brandy slid down Greed's throat like the smoothest liquid fire he'd ever tasted, and he caught himself watching the line of Sephiroth's throat as he drank.

The general complimented him on his brandy-choosing skills, and Greed shamelessly took credit for what had been a cooperative effort between him and three store employees who'd been smart enough to know that SOLDIERs had enough money to buy, if not the Sephiroth-level booze, considerably higher-shelf than the usual plastic jugs of electric-blue Odin's Thunder.

Greed realized, as he tipped the last few drops past his lips, that this was usually the part where he would step close and steal a kiss, and that kiss would lead to another kiss and another and they'd end up on (or against) a flat surface somewhere. Something in the air and in Sephiroth's eyes held him back, though. It was different, here, than out in the field. There, you needed the hot burn and push and pull to remind you that you were alive when there was death all around you. On leave, though...well, Greed understood how the mindset could change. And he hadn't gotten where he was by not having a good instinct for when to make his move and when to hold his hand.

\--------------------

They ended up on the couch, though not for the reason that Greed usually ended up on couches.

Greed leaned over to peer at the titles of the books neatly stacked on the endtable. There was one fiction book that Greed had heard of (something involving an intricate political plot, if he recalled correctly), several history books, a book on military tactics, and a thin red silk-bound book in Wutaian. Greed's pidgin Wutaian couldn't decipher the characters, but when he picked it up curiously, Sephiroth told him that it was poetry. Greed grinned and put it back. "You read a lot, don't you?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Not really. Watch TV?" Greed couldn't really imagine Sephiroth kicking back with a brew and watching sports or inane sitcoms, but hey, he hadn't really thought that Sephiroth would read Wutaian haiku, either.

"No. Not much time."

"Me neither."

"Hm," Sephiroth replied, swirling his brandy in its glass thoughtfully before sipping it again.

The best thing for awkwardness, Greed had learned a long time ago, was to acknowledge it. "...this small talk thing is harder than it looks, eh? Guess we never needed it before."

Some of the tension around Sephiroth's mouth relaxed into an almost-smile. "We always talk about work."

"Yeah, but I promised you no talking shop."

"True."

Greed shrugged a bit, chin propped on his hand as he ran his finger along the rim of his glass. "I suppose other than that, though, we don't have much in common." It was more true than he usually liked to admit. He was a street tough from under the Plate, and Sephiroth was ShinRa's Silver General, after all.

"Perhaps." Sephiroth watched him, his voice carefully neutral. "I hope that that's no reason for you to leave."

Greed raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't honestly think I'd do that, do you?"

Sephiroth's shrug was also carefully neutral, but he said nothing.

There were a lot of rumors about Sephiroth's origins. It was common knowledge that he'd been raised within Shinra. The most common rumor was that his mother had been a Shinra employee who had died tragically with no relatives and that he had been brought into the "Shinra family" in lieu of being sent to an orphanage. All very heartwarming, and Greed didn't believe a word of it. Well, maybe the mother dying tragically part. Because the fact was that no one Greed had ever met, SOLDIER or civilian, had eyes like Sephiroth's. Yet Sephiroth was the first SOLDIER. So the question was, what exactly had Shinra been doing to Sephiroth while they were heartwarmingly caring for the poor orphan? Other than convincing him that he was alone in the world and that even his friends would leave him given enough reason?

Greed was too chickenshit to ask. Especially when whatever it was had made Sephiroth able to trust people to guard his back but not his feelings.

Sephiroth was still watching him, carefully, like Greed was a chocobo that might kick at any second.

Greed just stretched and said in his most affable voice, "Well, I don't have any plans tonight. And I just happen to have a few changes of clothes and my toothbrush in my bag. You know, in case I need to bunk here. And you don't mind putting me up for the night, of course."

The tension bled out of the air like it'd never been. Greed wasn't sure what the hell had just happened, but evidently that response had been the right one. It got him a real smile. One that made it to the general's eyes and everything.

Sephiroth stood, leaning forward to set his glass down. His voice was quiet. "Would you like to stay?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." Sephiroth moved, moving easily to kneel over Greed's lap. Greed felt the air shift, a familiar warmth tugging at the other man's eyes. This was much better, much more familiar ground. Greed let his legs fall apart so Sephiroth could come as close as he wanted, one hand settling on Sephiroth's hip. "Don't want to be any trouble, though. I mean, you look kinda tired."

Greed looked up and Sephiroth leaned down, and _this_ was familiar, feeling the general's hair tickling against his cheek where it'd escaped from its tie. And if the kiss was more long and comfortable than hot and needy, well, slow and steady had its place, too. Especially when Sephiroth pulled back a long minute later, and the strange awkwardness had vanished. "I'm not tired," he murmured.

"Oh good," Greed said, one hand sliding up over the other man's spine. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Sephiroth nodded toward the hall. "I can actually offer a real bed this time."

Greed let his eyes go kid-wide. "Not a camp cot? Or a bunk? A real bed?"

"With real sheets to muss and everything."

"Oh, you know just how to tempt a guy."

\---------------------------

It was different, and not just because of the bed.

Sephiroth had always been skin over steely precision. Even in camp, in friendly territory, there had always been a ready tension in his movements, a sense that he could have a weapon in his hands and into an enemy in two seconds flat if he had to. Even in bed, pressed down under mako-enhanced strength, Greed had been able to feel it in every careful thrust. It was something Greed was intimately familiar with: the battlefield mindset, the hair-trigger awareness of everything and everyone around you, because you were never sure where the enemy will come from next.

Now, the steel was turned to silk, Sephiroth's movements slow and lingering. Greed couldn't tell if it was the relaxed langour of a man who was finally off duty or whether he was just exhausted, but it was new and hot as hell, to feel Sephiroth yield where always before there'd been iron control. They tumbled onto the bed, kissing slowly, and when Greed ended up on top, neither of them raised any objections. When he moved, Sephiroth's legs parted around him, drawing him closer. And when Greed slicked his fingers, a long, complicated question was answered when Sephiroth, mouth sliding warm over Greed's collarbone, guided Greed's fingers down to his own body, pressing them into a heat so tight that Greed had to count off cadence in his head to be able to last through the preparation stage. His fingers brushed the right spot almost by accident, and the long arch of pale skin beneath him wasn't unfamiliar, but the soft moan was. Greed caught it on his tongue and murmured, "C'mon. No camp around us. Let me hear you." He slid his fingers in further and twisted, just to hear that noise again, and Sephiroth didn't disappoint, long fingers digging into Greed's bicep as his next moan was half chuckle.

Sephiroth smiled and wrapped a leg around Greed's waist, a hand around Greed's cock. "Then fuck me."

It was, hands down, the best order Greed had heard all year.

Neither of them could wait, hard and impatient. Greed tried to slow things down, just because Sephiroth felt so tight, but the other man wouldn't have any of it, pressing Greed where he wanted him. Greed gave up and pressed Sephiroth back with a kiss, thrusting in hard and ignoring the fine set of bites on his shoulder, the scratches down his back, in favor of seeing the Silver General cry out and come undone on his cock.

Coming was almost anticlimactic after seeing that. Almost.

\--------------------------

"I'm not so sure that Kimberly kid's going to work out." It didn't _quite_ qualify as work, Greed thought.

Sephiroth stirred against his chest. For once, Greed had dared to not just collapse next to him but actually pull him close, and he hadn't heard any complaints. "Oh? Why?"

Greed idly helped collect stray strands of hair, white as snow and strong as wire. Sephiroth's hairtie had gotten lost somewhere along the way. "He's a loner. Doesn't know how to..._care_ about the team like we do. He's gone off a few times on a mission, and we've had to go save his ass. He gets the job done, but he's just got a total disregard that we might be...worried about him." Greed shrugged, shifting them into a more comfortable position. "Guess I was wondering why you recommended him."

He could feel Sephiroth's shrug against his stomach. "He fit the profile of what you needed: long range attack and a materia user. As for his personality...it might have been wishful thinking on my part. I have to admit, I was hoping he would work out."

"Why's that?"

"He reminds me a bit of myself."

"How so?"

Sephiroth looked up at him, his smile small and wry. "I don't know how to play well with others either."

Greed snorted. "Bullshit."

"No, really." Sephiroth shifted, his arm stretching across Greed's waist. "I've always worked alone. Oh, I've commanded others and tried to minimize casualties, but it was always me being responsible for them, never the other way around."

There was something telling in that statement, something that bore thinking on, but Greed wasn't sure if he had enough brainpower at the moment to figure out what it was. "Sounds lonely at the top."

"Only if you know that there's an alternative." Greed furrowed his brow, but Sephiroth yawned and went on before he could say anything. "Just give Kimberly a chance. It might take him awhile to realize that there's a better way to do things."

"Sure." Greed ran his fingers over the dip of spine, the deceptive softness of pale skin that never burned or tanned in the sun. "I can do that."

_I've always liked taking in strays._

~End


End file.
